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IGDRASIL. 



IGDRASIL; 



OK, 



THE TREE OF EXISTENCE. 



BY 



JAMES CHALLEN, 
$ » 

AUTHOR OF THE CAVE OF MACHPELAH, AXD OTHER POEMS. 










" 



/ 



PHILADELPHIA: 

LINDSAY AND BLAKISTON. 

1859. 



TS 



all 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by 
JAMES CHALLEN, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern 
District of Pennsylvania. 



STEREOTYPED BY L. JOHNSON & CO. 

PHILADELPHIA. 

C. SHERMAN & SON, PRINTERS. 



I like, too, that representation they have of the tree Igdrasil. 
All life is figured by them as a tree. Igdrasil — the Ash Tree of 
Existence — has its roots down in the kingdoms of Hela, or death : 
its trunk reaches up heaven-high, spreads its boughs over the 
whole universe : it is the tree of Existence. At the foot of it 
in the death-kingdom sit three Normas, — Fates, — the Past, 
Present, Future, watering its roots from the sacred well. Its 
boughs, with their buddings and disleafings, — events, things 
suffered, things done, catastrophes, — stretch through all lands 
and times. Is not every leaf of it a biography, every fibre 
there an act, a word? Its boughs are histories of nations. 
The rustle of it is the noise of human existence, — onwards from 
of old. It grows there, the breath of human passion rustling 
through it, or storm-tost, the storm-wind howling through it 
like the voice of all the gods. It is Igdrasil, the tree of Ex- 
istence. It is the past, the present, and the future. What was 
done ; what is doing ; what will be done. The Infinite conju- 
gation of the verb " To do." 

Carltle. 



PKELUDE. 



i. 

Silence. 

I have dwelt alone, 

Yoiceless, breathless, still; 
Not a sigh or groan 

The hungry air could fill. 
Not a sound, a word, 

Falls upon my breast; 
And Echo has not stirred 

The quiet of my rest; — 

ii. 

Night. 

Not alone, 
For I ever with thee dwelt; 

Round thee I have thrown 
My dark, mysterious belt : 

Not a sound or sight, 
Not a gleam of fire, 



10 PRELU DE. 

Not a ray of light, 

My languid thoughts inspire. 
O darkness, flee away, 

I perish with the cold. 
Send me the light of day: 

I am growing old. 



in. 

Space. 

Within my ample bound, 
Ye two alone are found. 

We three; — 
The offspring of Infinity. 
"With shuddering fear 
I listening hear, 
From out the deep profound, 
The all-creating sound, 
Which from the silence breaks; 
And the loud " Let there be/' my spirit 

shakes. 
And from the hungry night, 
Lo ! now is born the Light ; 
And in my arms I fold, 
And will forever hold, 
All things, which from the Infinite hath 

rolled. 



PRELUDE. 11 



LIGHT. 



Forth from the light a spirit came, 
Eobed with a scarf of dazzling hue; 

He seemed, at first, a radiant flame, 
Breaking from out the distant blue. 

Farther than sense or thought can fly, 
In depths untrodden, was he seen, 

Beyond the trooping stars on high, 

Or where they send their arrows keen. 

The virgin light around him flung 
All colors, which are seen at even ; 

Or which the morn has ever hung 
Upon the opening gates of heaven. 

Graceful as matin rays of light 

That float upon the ocean's wave, — 

He burst upon the enraptured sight, 
"Within the luminous floods to lave. 

Silence was startled with his wings, 

That fanned the sleeping breath of song; 

And o'er the realms of Night he flings 
His golden arrows, swift and strong. 



12 PRELUDE. 

And Space now filled his ample bound 
With suns and systems, worlds of fire, 

Which since have run their restless round, 
And never shall in death expire. 

And as he flew from star to star, 

And lit their lamps with golden light, 

He sought our gem-like orb afar, 

And found it in his onward flight; — 

So distant from the realms of morn, 
Which gave erewhile his glorious birth, 

No ray of light, as yet, was born 
Upon our lone and slumberous earth. 

He spread his radiant scarf upon 
Her form, so beautiful and bright; 

And as her face with glory shone, 
He left her, half in shade and light ! 

'Twas not by chance, but by design, — 
Prophetic of our future race, — 

The meaning of that ominous line, 
Which time nor distance can efface. 

Sleep and unrest, the shade and light, 
Contending still! nor shall the day 



PRELUDE. 13 

Conquer the ancient realms of night 
Till brighter suns their powers display. 

When quick, as from the orient leaps, 
The quivering beams of rising morn 

From hill to hill; — till onward sweeps 
The sun's broad light, on pinions borne; 

So came there myriad spirits blest, 

Filling the mighty void afar, 
Each bearing on his blazoned breast 

A glowing, bright, and burnished star. 

All orbs that deck the milky way, 

Or blaze around the Arctic seas; 
Or those that chaunt their solemn lay 

Near to the Southern Cross, — to these 

Were as the drops of morning dew 
That sparkle o'er a heath-grown field, 

To the broad ocean's ample view, 
Should he his watery treasures yield. 

And as the earth, in form so fair, 

Hose from her ancient womb of night; 

She robed herself in garments rare ; — 
A queen among the Peers of light. 



14 



PRELUDE. 

And deep within her heart there lay 
A precious seed, — divine its birth; 

Ready its glories to display 

Upon the waiting, anxious earth. 

And, as it broke beneath the mold, 
At once it grew in air and grace ; 

The richest treasure earth can hold, 
Divine in presence, form, and face. 

And as it waved its branches high, 
And all its blooming beauties spread, 

A warder from the distant sky 
Its future history sung or said. 



IGDEASIL. 



PART FIRST. 



THE ANGEL S SONG. 

A wonderful tree is the tree Igdrasil ! 
Through all ages it grew, and it grows ever 

still ; 
In the kingdoms of Hela far down are its 

roots, 
And as wide as creation it sends forth its 

shoots — 

This tree Igdrasil ! 

2 15 



16 IGDEASIL. 

At its foot sit the Normas, the house where 

they dwell, 
To water its roots from their deep sacred 

well; 
The past and the present, the future, are there, 
In union their labors incessant to share, 

On this tree Igdrasil. 

It has seen kingdoms rise, it has seen them 

decay, 
It has lived through the past, it will live on 

through aye ; 
'Neath its shade have all nations, all peoples, 

been found, 
And its leaves and its fruitage are scattered 

around, 

Of this tree Igdrasil. 

Its boughs stretch now earthward, now heaven- 
ward, far 
As the line of existence, the light of a star; 



IGDRASIL. 17 

Through all seasons, all ages, all changes of 

time, 
It grows, buds, and blossoms, in every clime, 

This tree Igdrasil. 

The buds still are swelling ; its blossoms appear 
Every moment and hour, every day in the year ; 
And a dower of wealth, on the earth, on the 

main, 
It as constantly sheds, thick as dew or the rain, 

From this tree Igdrasil. 
« 
The wind from all quarters is shaking its 

leaves ; 
And, sweeping its branches, it solemnly weaves 
Misereres, cantatas, old chorals and songs, 
And its grand Oratorio all nature prolongs, 

Of this tree Igdrasil. 

Even now, mid the leaves of this far-spreading 

tree 
May be heard the loud sobs of its sad litany, 



18 I G D R A S I L. 

Which the children of sorrow pour forth on 

the gale, 
As the murmuring wind bears along the wild 

wail 

Through this tree Igdrasil. 

In the fresh bloom of morning, at noon, and 

at night, 
Mid the shadows of even, the glare of the 

light, 
Now slow onward moving, now swift as the fire 
From the dark thunder-cloud, is the sweep of 

its lyre 

Through this old Igdrasil. 

Mid earthquake and tempest, through flood 

and through fire, 
Its branches are climbing yet higher and higher ; 
And its shadow still deeper and deeper is 

grown : 
Of this world the sole tenant, it stands all alone, 

This brave Igdrasil. 



IGD1USIL. 19 

The cedars of Lebanon fall one by one ; 
The oaks of old Bashan lie dead as a stone ; 
The pride of the forest, the king of each 

hill, 
Fall to dust when the mission of life they 

fulfil; 

But not so Igdrasil. 

Green and golden, the light through its verdure 

now streams, 
And like arrows are flying the swift-glancing 

beams 
On the hi]l-tops and meadows, on rivers and 

lakes, 
And the bird of the wild woods the rapture 

partakes 

Of this old Igdrasil. 

Gentle May, mid the blossoms that fall from its 

crown, 
Fills her bosom with flowers, and aweary sits 

down 

2* 



20 IGDRASIL. 

To entwine them in wreaths^ of all colors and 

lines, 
In the freshness of morning, — its snnlight and 

dews, 

From this tree Igdrasil. 

And Summer, with lap and with bosom replete, 
And wading through oceans of bloom 'neath 

her feet, 
Exhausted and faint, has now fallen asleep; 
While the birds in the branches a festival keep 

In the old Igdrasil. 

And Antnmn then comes, in the wane of the 

year, 
When the frnits are all ripe and the leaves 

crisp and sear; 
And to gather the harvest, a strong thrifty 

swain 
To work he now summons his bold, rustic 

train 

Round the old Igdrasil. 



IGDRASIL. 21 

The baskets are bursting, and in heaps all 

around, 
Thick as hail, the rich fruitage is seen on the 

ground ; 
And the large, ponderous wain with its burden 

now groans 
And its wheels harshly creak as they grind o'er 

the stones 

'Neath the old Igdrasil. 

Stern Winter gives warning that now he is near, 
And he sends a sharp whistle, coldly keen, and 

most clear; 
And he claims all the flowers of Summer and 

Spring, 
And the fruits of the Autumn, — the covetous 

thing ! 

Of this rich Igdrasil. 

On its head all the day is the sun shining bright, 
And a crown of rich gems shed their radiance 
at night; 



22 IGDRASIL. 

But the brightest of things shows a shadow as 

dense, 
Like the sun when its disc is concealed from 

the sense : 

So this tree Igdrasil. 

Sin and shame, guilt and sorrow, have furnished 

the braid 
Which has woven the deepest, the deadliest 

shade, 
Underlying the arms and the leaves of this tree ; 
In the churchyard and lone grave their work 

you may see, 

'Neath the old Igdrasil. 

Smiling infancy there, with old age now abreast, 
And manhood and youth, all are taking their rest; 
One by one, chosen quick, or by strong currents 

swept, 
Here they lie side by side, — both the hated, the 

wept, 

'Neath the old Igdrasil. 



IGDRASIL. 23 

tree, noble tree, with thy roots deep and 

strong, 
Sending forth thy rich sap to each outermost 

prong, 
AVith thy trunk knit and twisted, more solid 

than steel, 
Yet with fibres which keenly, most vividly, 

feel! 

Grow on, generous tree ! 

Still add to thy girth new accretions and bands, 
Spread out till thy bounds shall encompass all 

lands ; 
Shed thy rinds scathed and blighted, and hoary 

and sear, 
To enrich and to fatten thy soil every year, 

huge mountain tree ! 

Reach forth thy brave arms, brawny, massive, 

and sound, 
Till their shadows shall cover earth's uttermost 

bound, 



24 IGDRASIL. 

And their fruitage and leafage shall ripen and 

wave 
In all lands and all zones, both to comfort and 

save, 

giant-like tree ! 

From thy branches a shoot has sprung up to 

the skies, 
And its fruit is more rich than has ere blessed 

our eyes ; 
It has caught all the dews and the sunshine 

of heaven, 
And a dower on thy head now most richly is 

given, 

O loved, honored tree ! 

It is sending thy juices in health back again, 
Distilling its sweets, like the God-gifted rain, 
On the heath-flowers, and pansies, and roses that 

bloom 
In the hot parched deserts and mouldering tomb, 

O heaven-blessed tree ! 



IGDRASIL. 25 

It is bending its branches and crowning* thy 

bead, 
With a scarf bright and beautiful over thee 

spread ; 
Its leaves never wither, its flowers ne'er decay, 
And its fruit, hence immortal, shall ne'er fall 

away, 

O grand, kingly tree ! 

Soft and silken its tendrils ; in velvety down, 
Trailed and plaited, they hang from thy rich 

amber crown, 
Of all colors that hide mid the flower-covered 

leas, 
Or the breeze-scented mountains, the mirroring 

seas, 

rich, braided tree ! 

In its o'erbending boughs, gently waving on 

high, 
Precious fruits are seen ripening beneath the 
warm sky; 



2(5 IGDRASIL. 

And ethereal dews all the night freshly shed 
Their odorous sweets on its garlanded head, 

light-loving tree ! 

Soft murmurs, faint breathings, ^Eolian and 
sweet, 

Silver-toned and euphonious, in their rhythm- 
ical beat 

Now chime with the voices of angels, which 
swell 

The rich music that breaks over mountain and 
dell, 

O song-loving tree ! 

Dissolving like dew on the low creeping grass, 
When the sighs of the heart-broken upwards 

do pass; 
Or like thunder that breaks o'er the dark, 

troubled wave 
When the hopes of the free are struck down to 

the grave, 

O merciful tree ! 



I G D It A S I L. 27 

When the tears of the penitent fall on the 

earth, 
Their soft cadence awakens thy rapturous 

mirth ; 
And when infancy sends forth its last pulsing 

wail, 
Invisible strings melt in gladness the tale, 

deep-troubled tree ! 

When grief sits alone, clasping firmly each 

palm, 
It is thine to allay all its sorrows with balm ; 
And when sadness sits brooding o'er anguish 

and care, 
Thou canst change by a touch all its sighs into 

prayer, 

O pitying tree ! 

Or when sleep flies the eyelids or dreams mock 

the rest, 
Morphean founts are awakened and pour from 

thy breast; 



28 IGDRASIL. 

And when, fainting and weary, they sink in 

despair, 
Fragrant scents, as of violets, breathe through 

the air, 

O grief-drowning tree ! 



And when hosts gather round us to smite down 



the free, 
"The sound of a going" is heard on this tree; 
'Tis the star-trooping angels that sweep through 

the sky, 
To rouse us to battle and aid us on high, 

truth-loving tree ! 

rich fragrant tree ! flowering tree ! 

In the shades of thy bowers I sit musingly ; 

And I hear dulcet chimes, like the low, tinkling 
sound, 

Born of silence, that breathes from the moss- 
covered ground, 

O myriad- voiced tree ! 



PART SECOND. 



I. 



In times of old, mid shadows dim, 

Pale forms were seen, both blithe and grim ; 

Here Proserpine affrighted stood, 

Or gliding through the sheltering wood; 

And sylvan nymphs, and even old Pan, 

Scattered flowers as they ran. 

And, as in cathedrals gray, 

Where the nuns their vigils pay, 

Or the beadsman, wan and pale, 

Masked in frozen hood and mail, 

Turns aloft his sunken eye 

As he tells his rosary; 

Thus they sought and found their home 

Underneath some leafy dome, 

Where many an ancient altar stood 



Steaming with its recent blood. 



2 'J 



30 IGDEASIL. 

Nor deemed they that each fawn and fay, 
Like ghosts alarmed, would flit away 
When the sun rose at dawn of day. 
But within each grove and dell 
A light upon their darkness fell ; 
Glancing through each giant tree 
Silently and suddenly. 
Then these vagrants trembling fled, 
Filled with more than mortal dread; 
Or, dissolved in mist and air, 
Muttering words of deep despair, 
On they went to regions dire, 
As wolves retreating from the fire 
When every herb and bush and spire 
Leaves the blasted prairie bare. 

Old Thor knit his angry brow, 

Made in haste a desperate vow, 

That, with hammer in his hand, 

Over the sea and over the land, 

He would send one spark, — a scathing brand, 



IGDRASIL. 31 

The last of all his missiles spent ; 
And where it fell, or whither it went, 
He little cared, if he might know 
It dealt a deep and deadly blow ; 
For well he knew his power would end 
With the last bolt his arm would send. 

Here Odin, with his giant seers, 
And his shivering ice-bound peers, 
With eyes afrozen, dull, and dim, 
Which could not in their sockets swim, 
Now wept a few big drops, that fell 
Within the ocean's angry swell, 
And, ever since, each icy spur 
That northward checks the mariner — 
Those mountain masses that float along 
In fathomless fiords, heavy and strong — 
Remind him of those days of yore 
When he the frozen sceptre bore 
Along old Norway's horrid shore. 



3* 



32 I G D R A S I L. 

The God- wish Aiger, in despair, 
Aloud exclaimed, "Now have a care!" 
And in a sullen storm, that woke 
His slumbers by a sudden stroke, 
Cried, "Save the ship! cut every spar! 
There's neither light of sun or star; 
We are floating to a world afar!" 
And, seizing on the helm, which broke 
"With too heavy a hand and stroke, 
He perished in the stormy wave, 
And found a deep and darksome grave, 
And none to pity, none to save ! 

Thus, the whole fabled race, 

In confusion and fear, 
Will abashed hide their face, 

And at length disappear, 
At the sound of that word 
By the nations once heard. 
And now, shunning the light, 
To the regions of night 



IGDRASIL. 33 

As outcasts they fly 
To seek shelter and die ; 
Or, with demons of old, 
Scorched with fires, or left shivering with 
snow drifts acold. 



n. 

At the birth of old Time, 
When fresh in her prime, 
Like the heavens sublime, 

The earth was all beauty, without sin or pain, 

And the slime of the serpent had left not one 
stain ; 

It is said that the angels held converse with those 
Who sought their repose 
'Neath the shade of that tree ; — 
The new Igdrasil, which forever shall be, 

To hear the sweet notes of their rich melody. 

Softly they breathed to the listening ear 
Strains which 'twere madness now to hear. 



34 IGDKASIL. 

Such notes should their lips to our senses give 

birth, 
The heavens would descend to the dwellers on 

earth, 
And the soul would be drowned by their awful 

mirth ! 
In pity to mortals, their voices are mute, 
And silent each harp-string and heavenly lute. 
The chorals that break from a thousand spheres 
Die ere they reach our leaden ears, 
Or seem like the bells of the flowers that chime 
To the monads that nestle in beds of thvme ! 

V 

But how blest was that pair, 

Such communion to share ! 

How honored their lot 

And sacred each spot! 
How hallowed each visit, and tender their love, 
When the bright shining ones from the regions 
above 

Partook of their pleasure, 

Unalloyed, without measure. 



IGDRASIL. 35 

"With no thought of to-morrow, 

~Ko care, and no sorrow! 

More bright than a dream 

In life's freshest stream, 
When the soul with the richest of fancies may 
teem. 

'Twas a birth 

On the earth 
Such as angels might covet, but never could feel, 
"Which the bowers of Eden to them did reveal. 

Xot a thing to bewail 

As a love-lorn tale, — 
The hero a knave, or a worthless snail, 
"Whom the world would not miss, if he had died, 
More than a leaf on the swollen tide, — 

A phosphor light, 
Born of putrescence, — a thing to affright ; 

But a love that came 

Like a vestal flame, 

B.osy and warm 

And without alarm; 



36 IGDRASIL. 

More subtle and bright than our goldenest dreams. 
And purer than all the fabled streams 
That run through Elysian fields on high, 
To bathe in which it were heaven to die ! 
But a love to us poor mortals given 

From the innermost heaven ; 

Pure as the ray 

Which from yonder sun 

On the waters play 
Or the mountains dun. 
Warm as the heat of a summer's noon, 
Chaste as the light of a full-orbed moon; 

'Twas a word of bliss 
Of more than mortal blessedness. 

All that was bright 

In heaven's own light; — 

All that is fair 

With it we compare, 
And we call it a thing more rich and rare. 

All that is sweet, 

And all that is meet 
To measure our heart's wish and make it complete. 



IGDRASIL. 37 

But how changed was the scene, when, with guilt 

and with shame, 
To the tree of existence, surrounded with flame, 
Forbidden to come or to taste of its fruit, 
While the angels, astonished, stood silent and 

mute ! 

All the air was then burdened with sobs and 

with sighs, 
And tears fell as rain from those pitying 

eyes, 
Unused until then to that amber-rich dew 
Which the heart crushed with sorrow now 

brings into view. 

Sudden wails swept the branches, as winds sweep 

the sail 
Borne along by the might of a desperate gale; 
And, as far as the ear could detect, now there 

grew 
Distant sounds faint, yet fainter, and -whispering, 

"Adieu." 



38 IGDRASIL. 

Through the ocean in which our lone earth moves 

along, 
Myriad voices aloft bore this word, loud and 

strong ; 
And, till reaching the portals of sunshine and 

day, 
The sound still was heard on their sad lips to 

stay. 

To the listening vaults and the sky-arching 

dome, 
Where the bright-winged beings were hastening 

home, 
Their answering echoes were sent fresh as dew 
To that burdened refrain, murmuring only, 

"Adieu." 

And the word floats aloft, as if winged with fire, 
To the innermost Temple, the altar and choir; 
And the sound shapes the voices, now faintly 

and dim, 
Of the bright-vested cherubs, the rapt seraphim. 



IGDRASIL. 39 

Ever since, mid the tree of existence, is heard 
Through its sunlight and shadows, this sorrowful 

word; 
And when nipt by the frost, red and sallow and 

sear, 
Its leaves fall to dust, 'tis the last sound they 

hear. 



HI. 

man, pause and pray ! 

Be admonished to-day, 

When pleasure is nigh, 
When the earth is all freshness, — all splendor 
the sky. 

Now a smile, then a tear, 

A foe may appear, 
Which may turn all thy joyance to anguish and 
fear. 

Then the rain-drops are shed 

O'er the path that you tread, 
And nothing to shelter the pitiless head. 

4 



40 IGDRASIL. 

Darkness and doubt 

Within and without; 

Anguish and sorrow, 

To-day and to-morrow; 

Guilt for the past 

"Which forever may last. 
This is death, worse than death, to the sin- 
stricken soul ; 
It has driven ten thousand unwashed to their 

goal. 
But hope sheds its fragrance upon the crushed 

heart, 
And the joy of the Lord bids each sorrow depart. 
Then, one smile from his face, howe'er dark be 

the night, 
Will dispel all its shadows and turn them to 

light. 

IV. 

Is it the breath of a human sigh, 
A floating leaf as it passeth by ? 



IGDRASIL. 41 

A tear that is falling upon a stone 
From a heart that is breaking all alone? 

Is it a pang that none may share ? 
The wail of a spirit in deep despair, 
Seeking relief, and it knows not where? 

Look upwards and see, 

Ere the visions flee. 
O'er the dull beaten path in which we now tread, 
Where the fruits that we gather with ashes are 

spread, 
Hope wings her bright pinions and bends her 

meek head. 



V. 

Toil we here, both night and day, 

To win a name 

That will not stay, 
In chase of that phantom that men call fame. 

Hungry as night, 

Watchful as light; 



42 IGDRASIL. 

Through marsh and through glen, 

We eager pursue 
What, in gaming, we rue. 

Though the soul be lost, 
Or by passion tost; 
And we barter all 
At its clarion call ; 
Still onward we move, 
As if madly to prove 
That life is the gleam of the meteor's light, 
And fame, but the sound as it fades from the 
sight. 

The hopes of our youth, 
What are they, in truth, 
But memories now? 
The flowers are all faded, 
The garlands are braided, 

And withered they lie, 
Pale as ashes, and dry. 
The future, which sheds such a light on our 

path, 
Is the mirage that mocks us in anger and wrath. 



IGDRASIL. 43 



VI. 

'Pleasure and mirth 

Have an unquiet birth ; 
And frail 
Is their life as a passing gale. 

They come to us here 

From a higher sphere. 
They come, like birds from a sunny clime, 
Where their voices blend as the bells in a 
chime 

At a marriage feast, 

Where the waiting priest 
Is ready to make two hearts sublime. 

But they will not stay : 

In a moment away, 
Chilled by the blasts of a wintry day. 

Let us suffer and do, 

As we onward pursue 

What is best for us here. 



4.3s 



44. IGDRASIL. 

"Tis my faith, and trust, 
That, whatever befall, 
It were better that dust 
On our bright hopes might fall, 
Than fail to be ready at duty's stern call. 

VII. 

Through the shadows and gloom which enshroud 

us above, 
One eye still looks on us, of pity and love ; 
And I know that, whatever disturbs now my 

breast, 
There's a home for the weary, — a haven of rest. 

With a conscience unstained, and a heart firm 

and pure, 
We may laugh at our ills, and all trials endure, 
Borne above all the changes of birth and of 

blood, 
The waves and the surges of passion's dark 

flood. 



IGDHASIL. 4 



K 



To existence — the future, the present, the past — 
I am bound by a chain that forever will last, 
That no power can destroy, no rust can con- 

* sume : 
'Tis the gift which survives all the wrecks of 
the tomb. 

Its links are all golden, and forged by a hand, 
Which in nicest adjustment and beauty are 

planned ; 
And though melted, and beaten, and welded in 

fire, 
'Tis to bring out their brightness and raise it 

still higher. 

Life is greater than food: he who gave us this 

boon 
Will not leave us to perish before it is noon; 
The greater includes all the lesser: — then 

know 
He who gave us this pearl, smaller gems will 

bestow. 



46 I G D R A S I L. 

The past we have conquered, and we smile at 

its toils, 
Reassured by its conflicts, enriched by its spoils ; 
The future though darkly its shadows display, 
Yet "sufficient the evil" that comes with each 

day. 

Yin. 

It is our life that changes ; sense 
Deceives not: still we draw from thence 
Our wayward fancies and our fond conceits, 
And hide us in their intricate retreats. 
Blindly we look, or shut the opened ear, 
And yield our hearts to folly and to fear. 

The world surrounds us like a wall of fire, 
Or fetters with its chains ice-cold and dire : 
Through its wide ramparts none of us can 

pierce, 
Though with fixed eyes we gaze, like eagles 

fierce. 



IGDRASIL. 47 

Beyond, our senses never caught a ray 
Save that which mingles with the common day. 
Yet is it real ; and no power can bind 
Its influence o'er the ever restless mind. 

The seasons come and go ; the sun shines on : 
Whether we smile or weep, his race is won. 
The grass still springs, the freshened turf still 

blows 
With wakened flowers ; earth has its many 

throes. 
The oak still lifts its ancient form on high, 
And stars display their glorious heraldry. 

Here stands our home, within the forest dell, 
In shade and sunshine ; — there the plashing well. 
Crimson and clear, the beams upon it rest, 
Or clouds and tempests shake its quiet breast; 
And tinkling streams keep music to the hour, 
When evening comes, to show its gentle power. 
Or when the wintry sky, in shroud or snow; 
Or on the purple peaks the sunsets glow; 



48 IGDRASIL.. 

Or battling tempests swell the turbid floods, 
Or the rough north winds shake its naked woods, 
Nature, unchanging, mocks our idle moods. 

Familiar scenes, — these change not, but abide ; 

Our bark but varies with the onward tide. 

The very tombs, where dust and ashes lie, 

Seem like the fixtures of eternity. 

Here in the rocks the hordes of Egypt sleep, 

And, like the mountains hoar, their relics keep ; 

As if a part of those eternal walls, 

And built to keep them ever in their halls. 

Where shall we anchor hopes that will not fail, 
Or whither hasten with our storm-rent sail? 
Is there no life beyond, no future rest, 
~No peace for weary feet or throbbing breast? 
Imprisoned here, we sigh to wing our way 
To realms beyond the light of common day. 

With joys above the shadows of a dream, 
The wildering senses with fond fancies teem. 



IGDRASIL. 49 

AdcI earthly loves have power the soul to shake 

With tones of ravishment, that make 

Us feel how feeble and how vain 

Are earth's endeavors to allay our pain, 

To help our discontent, to chain our grief, 

To send the burdened spirit sweet relief. 

Oh, there are moments when with guilt and 

wrong, 
Dark dreams and passions dire, our spirits 

throng ; 
"WTien, sad and weary, the o'erburdened breast 
Bows like the willow when by floods oppressed ; 
Haunted by memories, whence unbidden start 
Thoughts, elf-like, from the chambers of the 

heart : 
JSTo magic power their presence can surprise, 
Xo spells can charm, nor words can exorcise. 



PART THIRD. 



I. 



ISTot all of truth do we yet believe, 

IsTor all that is final the wisest receive ; 

Its massive shadows now hide from our sight 

Much that is found in the realms of light. 

Glints of sunshine fall on our way; 
Wandering beams on our footsteps play, 
Like those which fall on an April day ; 
But the summer will come, and a brighter sky 
Will dawn on our pathway and shine on high. 

O heart by the tempests strangely driven, 
On the headlands of doubt so rudely riven ; 
Yet know that the treasures, in depths that lie 
In the caverns below, will be swept on high 
And soon will appear to thy anxious eye. 

5 51 



52 IGDRASIL. 

Ko types, liowe'er perfect, have ever expressed 
All the light and resplendence which gleam 

from the hreast 
Of the vestment which Truth in her jewelled 

shrine 
Has placed on the heart by a hand divine. 

]STo dogmas of prelates or priests can bind 

The thoughts which leap forth from the un- 
fettered mind; 

For the truth will be seen, as a beacon on 
high, 

Through the rack of the storm-cloud which 



'to 



darkens the sky. 

Steady shining, though hidden at times by the 

shade, 
It seems like an angel our fancy has made ; 
Rounding out in its beauty, at length 'twill 

appear, 
When from mists and from tempests the sky 

shall be clear, 



IGDRASIL. 53 

And in brightness shall walk o'er the pavement 

of blue, 
To shed on our pathway its radiant hue. 



II. 

Brave hearts, true as brave, 
Battling hard for the right, 

Have gone down to the grave 
In the noblest of fight ; 

And their blood has been shed, 
Like the water as free 

From the clouds overhead, 

Which now fall in the sea. 
But the bravest in woman at duty's stern call; 

For the fight of her faith is the noblest of 

all. 

In the darkest of days, 

In proud temples she stood, 

And no offerings of praise, 
And no victims of blood, 



54 IGDRASIL. 

No vows and no gifts, at even or morn, 
To the shrine of an idol by her hands wonld 
be borne. 

Not one grain would she bring 
As a false offering ; 
Not one rite wonld perform 
Though the gathering storm, 
Red and lowering with blood, 
Might be calmed and snbdued. 

Her faith rose snblime 
Over passion and crime, 
Giving conrage to weakness 
And manhood to meekness; 
And an arm, though nnseen, 
On which fainting to lean ; 
And a power ever nigh, 
On which to rely, 
Upholding, sustaining the earth and the sky. 
No favor she songht, 
No worship she brought, 



IGDRASIL. f>5 



Save to Him who had loved her and taught her 

to know 
How rich is that peace which his blood can 

bestow ; 
WTio is worthy alone to receive from the 

heart 
All the homage and love which the soul can 

impart ; 
Who had taught her to die, than to fail to 

express 
The truth which his followers are called to 

confess. 

Yes, 'tis better to die 

Than to strangle in birth 

The free thoughts which cry 
For deliverance on earth. 

Far better the prison, the iron, the sword, 
Than to quench but one spark of the God-given 
word : 



56 IGDRASIL. 

The seed-thoughts once uttered a harvest may 

win 
Of souls now polluted, from folly and sin. 

Our great Leader confessed, and o'er truth's 

sacred shrine 
He poured out his blood as an offering divine; 
And he taught us this lesson : — ye craven hearts, 

hear ! 
"He who fears the One Father, no one else need 

he fear." 

SOlsTG. 

ANCIENT GEEEK MARTYRS. 

Lord of the worlds above, 

To thee we humbly bow; 
The martyr's crown we seek; 

Place it upon our brow ! 

No a Io Psean!" rings 
Upon the burdened air 



IGDRASIL. 57 



Froni us, who once could shout 
Son 2:3 to Aurora fair. 



•&■ 



Apollo hears not now 

The joyful maidens' chaunt, 

In cypress grove or glen, 

Where wood-nymphs used to haunt. 

JSTo music from our lips, 

At shadowy eve along, 
Fills Daphne's bowers dim 

"With, wild voluptuous song. 

Phoebus, at early dawn, 

Looks not for us to bring 
The dewy freshened flowers, 

Or costly offering. 

Isot to an idol's shrine 

We lowly bend the knee ; 
But to thine altars, Lord, 

We come ; we come to thee ! 



58 IGDRASIL. 

Lamb that was slain for us; 

Son, that to ns was given, 
Earth is all stained with sin: — 

Our home is heaven. 

Earth groans with many a pang ; 

Signs till the darkened air; 
Come, with thy festal robes 

Thy waiting bride prepare. 

The thousand ages bring 

The expectant jubilee ! 
The scattered tribes still wait: 

They wait for thee ! 

III. 

"How long?" was the wild, the piercing cry 
Which swept the earth and cleaved the sky, 
When blood like water was freely poured 
At the feet of thine altars, mighty Lord ! 



I G D R A S I L. 59 

In the depths of their sorrow and heavy 

woe, 
The " first-born" then felt its terrible throe; 
And the "just made perfect" were summoned 

to share 
The conflict their brethren were doomed to 

bear. 

Like the kingdoms of earth, 

When a star of their own 
Is strangled at birth, — 

Into darkness thrown. 
At the trumpet's clang, 

Every warrior bold, 
As its echoes rang 

Through his mountain-hold, 
Will leap to his steed, 
And, with eager speed, 
The feeblest, the meekest, 
The mightiest, the weakest, 
Will rush to the fight 
To defend the right; 



60 IGDRASIL. 

And the pride of their forces, the young and 

the fair, 
To the conflict now summoned, iu haste will 

prepare, 
And hurl their dread missiles of wrath and of 

woe 
'Gainst the haughty invader, the insolent foe. 

IV. 

In the struggle and strife 

Through the ages now fled, 
Soaked and crimsoned with life, 

Lie the fields of the dead. 
The grass and the turf 
Have been swept by the surf 
Of the Red Sea of battle, that breaks on the 

land, 
Leaving its stains on the white drifted sand. 

By infection and death, 
And murder's foul breath, 



IGDRASIL. 61 

The air is defiled 
With "the heaps upon heaps" packed, and 
pressed down, and piled; 

Choking rivers and streams, 

Till the rotten mass steams 

Hot with fervors which blight 
All that is touched by the horrible sight. 

In the rivers that glide 

In their beauty and pride ; 

In the ocean's wave, 

They have found a grave, 
With their martial cloaks so grand, 
Filled and ballasted with sand; 
Wrecked and ruined now they lie 
'Neath the calm and quiet sky ! 

V. 

Like a ship's crew, safe and warm, 
Fearing neither wind nor storm ; 



62 IGDRASIL. 

Dreaming long and sweet of home, 
As o'er oceans wide they roam, 
Till a treacherous sea ahead 
Sends them all within a bed 
Where the furies feed and gloat 
On the carcasses that float. 
And the sea-swell's angry breast, 
With its furious, foaming crest, 
Bears them like a worthless weed, 
Or a frail and shattered reed, 
Far upon the beetling shore, 
Stunned by its everlasting roar. 

Dark the night, and ill the guide, 
When the vessel in its pride 
Struck the breakers; and how soon 
All went down, as in a swoon^ 
'Neath the watery, waning moon ! 

See ! the captain helpless yields, 
Who had won a hundred fields, 



IGDRASIL. 63 

To the ceaseless waves, that leave 
Lance and bearer at each heave : 
'Tis enough to make one grieve ! 

In his wildly-floating hair, 

In his eyes, which blindly stare, 

The brine has left its deadly stain, 

Which all the floods cannot wash again. 

VI. 

Oft have I seen the purple even 
Burdened with the quickening levin ; 
Far away in the western heaven. 
I have watched the sun go down 
Over the fields and over the town; 
And the one bright star, with many stars 
Were sailing aloft, like silver cars ; 
Shining like molten furnaces, 
Or jewels upon a bridal dress. 



64 IGDRASIL. 

Their liquid light 

Was like phosphor bright, 
Or the eye of an iron steed, at night. 

All in a glow, 

Like the flowers that blow 

In the breath of June, 
Were the stars overhead, and the full-orbed 
moon. 

vn. 

The wind crept up the secret glen, 
Along the streams and the sedgy fen. 
The rippling waves ran down the brook, 
And the coarse grass curved, and the marsh- 
moor shook; 
And the tall trees lifted their branches high, 
Bathed in the light of a summer sky. 
The owlet hid from the moon's pale beams, 
And the whip-poor-will glided along the streams. 
The silent bat clove the yielding air, 
And the sky and the earth seemed wondrous fair. 



IGDRASIL. Q5 

Then I asked the winds, " Say, whence have ye 

come? 
And whither ye seek your chosen home?" 
"We come from the line of the Southern 

Cross, 
Where the foaming waves still tumble and 

toss; 
And we found a ship, as still as death; 
£Tot a wave was stirred by a passing breath. 
Her sails were hanging loose and lank, 
And the juice was oozing from every plank; 
And the lazy crew were asleep in the hold, 
Like sheep now gathered within the fold. 
All were silent as silence could be, — 
The ship, and the crew, and the glassy sea. 
And I hid myself in a cloud at hand, 
That Hesper had borne from a distant land. 
Then I struck the sea into phosphor flame, 
And the quivering bark, that bore the name 
Of the ' Ocean Wave,' fifty fathoms deep 
Went down to the weeds, where the zoophytes 

sleep. 



66 I G D It A S I L. 

Oh, 'twas a sight so grand, to see 
That ship, with its doomed company, 
Sink, and no threatening reef nigh or lea ! 
The helmsman awoke and clung to a spar, 
And was driven a hundred knots afar, 
No sun by day, and by night no star. 

"Seven days' famine and thirst and fright, 
I beheld him there, in his wretched plight. 
In pity I sent a thundering hail, 
And I beat him down with my icy flail; 
And along my track I have left the wreck 
Of many a broken, floundering deck. 
And now I am weary, and slowly creep 
Up the reedy marshes, to take my sleep 
Far away from the stormy deep." 

vru. 

By falsehood's foul breath, 
Scattering arrows and death, 
The air is polluted aud vile. 



IGDRASIL. G7 

It were well if the torch 

Were applied to the porch 
To consume, with a touch, the huge pile; 

That the champers which hide, 

In their glitter and pride, 
All deception, and error, and cant, 

Might be routed and cleared, 

And the walls scorched and seared, 
Without notice of courier avant. 

For ages the temple in mockery has stood, 
Denied by the lust of its votaries, and blood; 
And, though covered with tinsel, and gleaming 

with light, 
Within, all is ghastly and gloomy as night. 
And as truth has its temple, its altar, its priests, 
Its gifts and its worship, its fasts and its feasts, 
Its father, its children, its honors, its gains, 
So falsehood its orgies, its patrons, its fanes. 
Both the sweet and the bitter we press to our 

lips ; 
Every form has its shadow, — the sun its eclipse. 

6* 



68 I G D 11 A S I L. 

And if Christ has an empire he claims as his 

own, 
So Satan his kingdom, his sceptre, his throne. 
Each his army, in numbers as leaves in the 

air 
When the eddying winds lay the forest all 

bare. 

IX. 

Fear not, though the scowl 

Of defiance and scorn 
On his brow fierce and foul 

By the base fiend is borne. 
Mighty powers are nigh 

To aid thee to win 
Rich spoils for the sky 

Over death, hell, and sin ; 
And the smile of thy foe, 

Like the meteor's light, 
But a moment will glow, 

Then dissolve into night. 



IGDRASIL. 69 

Now, clad in their armor of glory and pride, 
From their coverts they rush, like a dark swollen 

tide ; 
Defiant and bold, richly covered with mail, 
And armed with keen arrows and furious as 

hail. 
Their hosts fill the air and darken the sky, 
With wings tipped with lightning so swiftly they 

%; 

And, the air filled with portents, they eagerly 

scour 
Every nook, every quarter, their foes to devour. 

Though mid leaves of the Igdrasil now they 

retire, 
And send forth their arrows all gleaming with 

fire, 
To corrupt every passion, inflame every lust, 
And to lay all that's beautiful low in the 

dust, 
Yet in God will we conquer: his shield is our 

trust. 



70 IGDRASIL. 

Though their breath stirs the tempests that howl 

round the tree, 
As erewhile on the waves of the dark Gal- 

lilee ; 
And its branches are severed and tossed in the 

air, 
"Tis but wrath roused by weakness, the might 

of despair. 

And though famine, with eyes sunken deeply 

and dim, 
And death, its dark shadow, follows silent and 

grim, 
And lust, with its eyes as the basilisk bright, 
Stalks abroad as at midnight, and hating the 

light, 
Our Leader will put them to shame and affright. 

And though feuds they engender, and war to 

the knife, 
In the church, in the state, stirring hatred and 

strife, 



IGDRASIL. 71 

And hand joined in hand for the conflict prepare, 
Madly bent on the spoils of the fallen to share ; 
And passion and hatred they scatter as seed, 
A harvest of incest and mnrder to breed, 
An arm still is ready in seasons of need. 

X. 

The bright shining ones, in their vestments so 

fair, 
Still encircle this tree as it waves through the air ; 
And their wings scatter odors and blossoms 

around, 
Enriching the air and o'erspreading the ground. 

Since creation's first dawn have they watched 

o'er the earth, 
As they sang the first song on the morn of its 

birth ; 
And as swift and as silent as arrows of light, 
They glance through the air in their rapturous 

flight. 



72 IGDRASIL. 

Shapes of brightness and beauty, they watch o'er 

the pure, 
And endow them with courage and strength to 

endure 
All the malice and hatred, all the pain and the 

woe, 
Devised by their recreant, desperate foe. 

What sounds of rich melody fall on the ear, 
In the soul's inward senses, mellifluous and 

clear, 
As the conflict grows sterner, with hearts firm 

and true, 
They resolve still to battle, to suffer and do ! 

XI. 

Founts of hidden pleasure, 
Without stint or measure, 
Are to them unsealed, 
And shapes of wondrous beauty to the eye 
revealed ! 



IGDRASIL. 73 

TVords of love 
From above, 
Voices soundless, 
Joyous, boundless ; 
Hosts in armor bright 
Stretching onward, from the earth, to the gates 
of light ! 

Visions brighter than a dream 
Now before their senses gleam ; 
Brighter than that weary one 
Had when, at the setting sun, 
On the ground he made his bed, 
Pillowing with a stone his head. 
Mantled in his cloak, he lay 
Till the dawning of the day : 
While he dreamed, a ladder swung 
Pendant, from the stars among, 
Farther than the eye could see 
In the realms of purity. 

Thence, descending 

And ascending, 



74 IGDRASIL. 

Watchers passed the star-paved night 
Till the dawning of the light. 

Oh, these dwellers old! 

Through the night drear and cold, 

Mid the darkness and the shame, 

Mid the torturing rack and flame, 

Still they come, as once they came, 

Walking to and fro the earth, 

Since creation's glorious birth; 

Noiselessly they hither trip, 

Fondly seeking fellowship, 

In our lone and circling sphere, 

With the race of dwellers here ; 

And, with many a rapturous song, 

Bear the joyful news along 

Of the tears which drown the sense 

In the seas of penitence. 

Where the fatted kid is slain 
For the dead, alive again, 



IGDRASIL. 75 

And the seething enibers burn 
At the prodigal's return, 
Joining in the song and glee 
Of the great festivity ; 

Or amid the choice retreat 
Where the pure and faithful meet, 
Joying to behold them raise 
Prayer for help, or songs of praise ; 
Or, offended, turn away, 
And to brighter regions stray, 
When unseemly rites and vile 
Taint the burdened air the while. 

XII. 

Where the verdure and the bloom, 
Fresh upon the recent tomb 
Of the daedal earth was seen, 
Washed by the flood of waters clean, 
Oft they came, and sought their way 
Where the feet of pilgrims stray ; 



76 IGDRASIL. 

And in human form and face, 
Humble garb, and saintly grace, 
They would seek refreshment, ease 
In the tent, beneath the trees; 
And receive both rest and fare, 
Princely feasts, and grateful care. 

Or where bold impiety 
Armed the thunderbolts on high, 
And the gathering, angry levin 
Muttered words of wrath in heaven, 
Sped they quick to guard and warn, 
Weak and helpless and forlorn, 
Those who suffered, wept, and prayed, 
And on God for mercy staid. 

xni. 

Ere the fiery tempest lowers 

On the doomed city's towers ; 

On its walls and gates of brass, 

Its crowded streets, through which now pass 



IUDRASIL. 77 

Those who buy and those who sell, 
Those who in proud mansions dwell, 
And the poor, the base, the mean, 
In the busy marts were seen. 
Vassals, with their haughty lords, 
Despots, with their hungry hordes. 
The rich, who proudly, stately tread, 
And the poor, who beg for bread; 
Men, who seek themselves to please, 
Women, careless and at ease ; 
On they move, nor dream the day 
Which arose so bright and gay 
Such a tempest could display. 

Not a cloud to dim its light, 
Not a portent to affright, 
Not a distant gleam of ire, 
Not a bolt of hidden fire, 
Not a murmur to inspire 
Thought of danger or alarm, 
Death, or fear of any harm. 



78 IGDRASIL. 

None, in fancy's seer-like gleams, 
None, in faint prophetic dreams, 
Conld anticipate the doom 
Which should wrap their homes in gloom 
In a fiery, smouldering tomb. 

XIV. 

In the sultry noon of clay, 
Where the tents of Abram lay, 
On the plains of Mamre seen, 
Travel-worn, in humble mien, 
Came now three, and by him stood, 
Wanderers over field and flood. 

Rising from his chosen seat, 
Low he bows him at their feet. 
"Let thy servant now, I pray, 
Beg you will not hence away 
Till a basin I shall bring 
Dripping from the gushing spring ; 



IGDRASIL. 79 

And aweary, as 'tis meet, 
I shall wash your dusty feet. 
Rest you here beneath this tree 
Till refreshed by mine and me ; 
Comfort here your hearts with bread, 
Ere from hence your way is sped:" 
They replied, "Do as thou'st said." 

XV. 

" Quickly bake three measures fine 

Of the meal, whilst from the kine 

I select the choicest, best, 

And with milk and curdles dressed, 

We prepare a fit repast, 

Ere the sun its shadows cast:" 

Then beneath the sheltering tree 

Here they sat, — the strangers three. 

XVI. 

" Where is Sarah now, thy wife, 
She, the partner of thy life ?" 



80 IGDRASIL. 

In the tent, behold, she stands, 

Busy with her thrifty hands. 

Then One said, — divine his air, 

Face, and form, beyond compare, — 

"I will certainly return 

Unto thee, what time shall burn 

In the socket, pale and dim, 

Life in quivering heart and limb ; 

And, ere your work on earth is done, 

Sarah shall bear to you a son." 

Within she heard, nor could express 

Half that she felt, but would suppress ; 

She laughed, not loud, in spirit low, — 

Laughed but to think it should be so ! 

"Now, wherefore did she laugh?" said he; 

"Is any thing too hard for me? 

Yet, at the time appointed, know 

The promised boon I will bestow." 

"I laughed not," Sarah, trembling, said: 

Weak was her faith, and sore afraid. 

"Nay, thou didst laugh," he quick replied, — 

And with this word, they onward hied. 



IGDRASIL. 81 



xvn. 

In the rich fields where Sodom lay 
The herdsman Lot had found his way: 
Selfish and weak, he eager went 
To pitch in Siddim's vale his tent. 

To him well known on every hand 
The wicked dwellers in the land ; 
Cautious at first to mix with those, 
Known to be his and Abram's foes. 

Too near to escape the tempter's wiles, 
His fascination and his smiles ; 
And soon he seeks the city's walls, 
Leaving his tent for princely halls. 

Entangled by his social ties 
And many a bait of sweet surprise, 
Familiar with the scenes around, 
By chains of custom Lot is bound. 



82 IGDRASIL. 

Though vexed his righteous soul each day, 
Too faint to leave, afraid to stay, 
Too just to approve, to weak to run, 
He mourned the sin he dared not shun; 

!Nor courage had, nor any grace, 
To free him from the tainted place, 
But found companionship and shame 
With those who scorned Jehovah's name ! 

Peril and trial none can fly; 
Sin and its brood are ever nigh : 
Yet rather fly to deserts waste 
Than seek its poisonous fruits to taste. 

xvni. 

At eventide the herdsman sate 

Near to the city's open gate ; 

When, lo ! two stately forms appear, 

To whom, with reverence, Lot drew near. 



IGDRASIL. 83 



a 



My lords, I pray you, stay this night 
Within my house, till morning light, 
And, ere the sun has blessed the day, 
Rise and pursue your onward way." 
" Nay, in the street will we abide : 
No evils will to us betide." 
Lot pressed them hard. Within the door 
Shelter they found, and ample store. 

XIX. 

The horrors of that night, for shame, 
We dare not speak, we will not name: 
Let it suffice that wrath apace 
Was threatened 'gainst the doomed place. 
"Up! fly thee from these hated walls; 
Thou and thy sons, forsake its halls." 
And while they lingered, hand to hand, 
They force them from the sin-cursed land. 
"Haste, for thy life; look not behind; 
Dead be to all you leave, and blind ! 



84 IGDRASIL. 

Fly to the mountains whence you came, 
Or perish in the wrathful name !" 

XX. 

The sun rose clear that day on high, 
And not a cloud bedimmed the sky, 
And, bathed within its yellow light, 
Cities and plains shone wondrous bright; 
When God rained fire from heaven, to brand 
All that was seen upon the land. 
Cities and plains, and flocks and men, 
Doomed ne'er to rise on earth again. 

Thus ever round our path they stray, 
To guide and guard us in our way ; 
Though now unseen, a watchful eye 
Still sends these warders from the sky. 
In sickness, sorrow, guilt, and shame, 
They gird us by a wall of flame ; 
In pain and anguish of the mind, 
They guard us, viewless as the wind. 



IGDRASIL. 85 

Darkness and doubt before tliem flee. 



"> 



On the verge of life's deep mystery; 

And outward sorrow or despair 

Flee by their presence into air. 

In prisons, tortures, rack, and flame, 

In sorrow, suffering, and in shame, 

In deserts wild or mountains drear, 

In doubt and darkness, hope and fear, 

Or on the earth or on the sea, 

They come in our extremity; 

And, by some wakened thought or word, 

Or inward feeling strongly stirred, 

They move, admonish, cherish, fill, 

Our plastic spirits at their will. 



PART FOURTH. 



I. 



Like Egypt, dark uprose a spell 

From the murky depths of hell ; 

The smoke-smothered air was thick and dun 

Up to the central sun. 

Chaos again, and ancient night, 
Drunk every shimmering ray of light ; 
And dim-eyed workers, gaunt and pale, 
Moved like the oozy snail. 

Like the salt that licks the shore, 
Leaving it baser than before ; 
So the sea of darkness rose and fell 
"With a mighty swell. 

8 87 



88 IGDEASIL. 

Men were affrighted, in terror fled, 
Weary with life, and sought the dead; 
Drenched with the rain and heartless sea, 
Mad with their misery ! 

Its waves were breaking upon the strand, 
Over the ramparts, over the land, 
Over the hamlets, the hill-clad vines, 
Over the storm-tost pines; 

The hoary woods, and the waving grain, 
And cities that smoked along the plain, 
And the gem-like cots that slumbering lie 
]STeath the quiet sky 

Where the children played at dusky eve. 
And the homeward flocks a pathway weave; 
And the social swallow skimmed the air, 
When the night was fair. 



IGDRASIL. 89 



n. 

Oh, it was cold as cold could be, 
And dark as cold, on that swollen sea; 
The sun seemed dying in his own blood, 
And in terror stood. 

And the stars grew pale, and the watery moon 
Reeled and faded, as in a swoon ; 
And the thunder-split hills, by earthquakes riven, 
Into the floods were driven. 

And the earth grew faint for the wretched sight, 
And sighed for one ray of the morning light; 
And the dial receded fall fifty degrees 
And left her to freeze. 

m. 

Theu, as wild beasts come forth from their coverts 

to roam, 
With eyes flashing fire, and teeth white with foam, 



90 IGDRASIL. 

When the mantle of night o'er the forest is 

spread, — 
So the lawless by passion and instinct were led. 

In its deepening shade they hnnted their spoil, 

And the dead and the living polluted the soil ; 

And the blood of their victims, like rain, soaked 
the earth, 

And the air was oppressed with their maniac- 
mirth. 

Horrid forms of humanity dwelt in the shade, 
And gods, fierce aod cruel, their own hands had 

made; 
And the bones of old heroes and saints long 

entombed, 
In their mad superstition, they eager exhumed. 

Wooden crosses they wore on their necks and 

their hands, 
Which, alas ! were soon changed into batons and 

brands ; 



IGDRASIL. 91 

And with these they beat down and consumed 

every foe, 
Till the earth groaned and maddened in anguish 

and woe. 

Wearied out with their sorrows, borne down by 

their waves, 
Men fled to the deserts and hid in their 

caves, 
And sought in their solitudes respite from 

fear, 
Mid the crags and the Alpine cliffs horrid and 

drear. 

But they bore with them safely the leaves of that 

tree 
Which from sickness and sorrow would set them 

all free ; 
And the lamp that was lit at the altars of 

love, 
Burning brightly they kept, fed with oil from 

above. 



92 IGDRASIL. 

And while darkness still brooded npon the vile 

race 
Who the pure faith in Christ from the world 

would efface, 
In the rude Alpine hills, like the light of a star, 
Was a Pharos, which shone through the ages afar. 

IV. 

Ten centuries — a decade most direful and drear, 
Full of carnage and guilt, brooding terror and 

fear — 
Moved on like the tramp of a conquering foe, 
Leaving nothing behind them but ruin and woe. 

The earth groaned beneath them, the skies 

darkly lowered, 
Ere the gathering tempests upon them were 

poured, 
When the Saracen forces, with rapine and pride, 
Swept the land with the might of their deep 

crimson tide. 



IGDRASIL. 93 

With the fierceness of lions, the fleetness of fire, 

With the stings of the scorpion all burning with 
ire, 

Both by fraud and by force, with the rack and 
the sword, 

They devoured the apostates, by Heaven ab- 
horred. 

Ever thus has it been when the truth has been 

slain, 
And no power save the sword may revive it 

again ; 
Then "to arms" is the cry, when from earth 

peace has fled, 
And pity her last tear of sorrow has shed. 

RTow a nation as vile as the one it invades 
Will be mustered to battle and draw its bright 

blades, 
And the "potsherds of earth" with their equals 

contend, 
And the powers above all their influence lend. 



94 IGDRASIL. 



V. 

As the light shines more brightly, more perfect 

the day, 
So the shadows more deeply their gloom will 

display ; 
And as mercy its fulness of blessing reveals, 
Behind her injustice more covertly steals; 

Thus the power of evil we never can know 
Till good all its riches of kindness shall 

show; 
As the spectres of darkness our spirits affright 
When the gleam of the sunshine our prisons 

may light. 

"When the true prophets came, then the false 

ones were near, 
When the Christ, then the anti-Christ soon will 

appear ; 



IGDRASIL. 95 

So the base coin is seen without measure or stint 
"When the good in abundance shall pour from 
the mint. 

VI. 

As the child in its helplessness needs every stay 
To guard and defend it along its new way, 
So, when weak in its infancy, God wisely gave 
Signs and wonders, the church from all error to 
save. 

But when instinct gives place to a far nobler 

guide, 
And reason stands by us, and clings to our side, 
Then the age filled with portents shall hence 

pass away, 
For the mind needs but truth for its prop and 

its stay. 

But, as man is both foolish and false to his race, 
Idle tales, endless fables, his records disgrace ; 



96 IGDRASIL. 

And the pure light of heaven by them soon will 

pale, 
And darkness and error instead will prevail. 

" Lying wonders and signs" fill the earth and 

the sky, 
And Madonnas a-weeping pump up tears to each 

eye; 
Januarius at Naples, as old as the Flood 
And as dry as a mummy, still shows running 

blood. 

Saintly bones and old cloaks, ragged shirts and 

old shoes, 
Holy relics and medals, will not even refuse 
To perform wondrous cures, and to raise e'en 

the dead; 
So the church of the priesthood has piously said. 



And to rescue the sepulchre out of the hand 
j Mos 
land 



Of the Moslem, who claims still his share in the 



IGDRASIL. 97 

Which the prophets and martyrs received as 

their own, 
And which Israel in fee holds the title alone 

All Europe was summoned, the young and the old, 
The weak and the mighty, the timid and bold ; 
To unite all their forces in one mighty stream, 
Gf merit sufficient, their souls to redeem! 

Moved by heaven, it was said, boys and girls 

stole away; 
In battalions they hastened as suppliants to pray 
That the "Virgin Immaculate" now would 

restore 
The only sure way to the kingdom, — this door ! 

On the Alps, amid famine and ice-cliffs and sleet, 
Thirty thousand were seen without shoes on 

their feet, 
And were dragged or were driven, like sheep, to 

be slain, 
The rock-girded sepulchre thus to obtain. 



98 IGDRASIL. 

Even now, in our own chosen home in the West, 
Mother-church deems herself highly honored 

and blest 
To invite all her children without fail to come 
And hold in Saint Xavier a grand Triduum. 

PETER CLAVER. 

Due honors now by saintly Xavier 
Are given to ancient Peter Claver, 
A canonized saint of Xono Pio, 
And henceforth known within Ohio 
As one who centuries past had died, 
But only now beatified ! 

O pious Claver ! what a story 
Could you relate of Purgatory, 
Since the fell day that you were tired 
Of this vain world, and then expired ! 
It was too bad that you should wait 
So long a time at Peter's gate, 



IGDRASIL. 99 

Ere in his realms to slip or slide, 
And join the saints, beatified ! 

You doubtless thought it very long 
Ere you had joined the happy throng, 
When others guiltier far, and meaner, 
Had gone, than Peter of Cargena ; 
In truth, I guess they were disguised, 
And stole among the canonized. 

But merit, soon or late, is sure 

To be requited to the pure ; 

And though forgotten and neglected, 

Perchance proscribed, or else suspected, 

At length has come the unlooked-for favor 

To poor, desponding Peter Claver. 

A Triduwn is here begun 

In honor of the fame you won ; 

In which your deeds of great renown 

Are heralded through all the town: 

How that, with many other things 

As mother-church his praises sings, 

9 



100 IGDRASIL. 

Diseases of the sick he bore ; 
The blind to sight he did restore ; 
And even to life he raised the dead, 
As fame, with doubtful tongue, has said. 

His cloak — though worn and very old, 
Used to defend him from the cold — 
He oft was known to kindly spread 
Beneath the dying and the dead; 
Though not so full of virtue then, 
As when on earth a denizen 
Old Clavier lived; but, from the hour 
He died, with some strange power 
The sick by contact it will save, 
And snatch even victory from the grave. 
And now it is by Rome decreed, 
The faithful shall from sin be freed, 
And full indulgence shall be given 
To trample on the laws of heaven, 
If this Triduum, without waver, 
Shall now be kept for Peter Claver. 



IGDRASIL. 101 

And prayer for Christian kings be given, 
To Him that rules o'er earth and heaven, 
That concord shall with them he found 
To crush each free thought to the ground; 
To quench each spark of generous fire 
The breath of freedom may inspire, 
And thus to exorcise and free 
The world from hateful heresy, 
And so exalt the church on high 
Above the earth, above the sky, 
That all the poor, the rich, the great, 
Of every kingdom, realm, and state, 
Shall learn submissively to bow 
To him upon whose awful brow 
Was placed long since the triple crown, 
To crush the truth and keejD it down 
Beneath his fierce and withering frown. 
And thus is heard this strange palaver, 
"Within the halls of sainted Xavier, 
About this priest, old Peter Claver. 



PAET FIFTH. 

I. 

See now what stately temples stand, 
With jewels brought from every land; 
And chief are those to Mammon raised, 
Whose altars every age have praised 

'JSTeath the Igdrasil. 
Under this tree, within the mould, 
In search of that bauble that men call gold, 

They are digging still, — 
Digging and delving, day and night, 
To bring the yellow dust to light; 
The feet of the beautiful, hands of the brave, 
Forsaking all, its treasures to crave. 

Dig ! dig ! dig ! 
Churchman, Tory, and Whig, 
Old and young, the little and big ; 

9* 103 



104 IGDRASIL. 

With mattock and spade and hoe, 

With hoe and mattock and spade ! 

The rich and the poor of every grade, 
Are bending low 
To delve, delve, delve, — 
Demon, sprite, and elve, 

The merchant, lawyer, and leach, — 
Each, each, each. 

The bishop who will not preach, 

The doctor who scorns to teach, 
The well-fed sinecure ; 

And all, who perforce endure 

Hunger and thirst and cold, 
And more than can be told, — 

All for that precious thing called gold ! 

II. 

In the morning's first bloom, 
They gather around 



IGDRASIL. 105 

As if summoned by doom, 
To dig the ground 
Of this ancient tree ! 
And they cease not their labor when midnight 

is o'er, 
And, full to repletion, they cry, " Give us 
more;" 
And, when shadows flee, 
Still bound by its fetters heavy and sore 
To its slavery, 
Its knavery! 

m. 

All night, in dreams, 
By auriferous streams, 
Their visions are haunted. 
The ocean old, 
Is molten gold, 
On which, through heat or winter's cold, 
They venture, nothing daunted. 



106 IGDRASIL. 

Golden the stars that shine at night, 

Golden the floods of morning light ; 

Even guilt clutches ingots of gold and ex- 
pires, . . 

And the shorn priest with gold feeds his smoul- 
dering fires. 

IV. 

The pen of the poet is touched by its power, 
When basely he panders for Dives's vile dower ; 
And the voice of the eloquent often is mute, 
Struck dumb by the touch of this poisonous 
fruit. 

V. 

It nerves the assassin to strike down his 

And tempts the foul Judas his Lord to be- 
tray,— 



IGDRASIL. 107 

Disposes both kingdoms and thrones by its 

lust, 
And tramples down freedom and truth in the 

dust. 
It builds its proud temples on lands drenched 

with gore, 
Till blood stains its altars, its walls, and its 

floor, 
And "beam answers beam," as the worshippers 

stand, 
" There is blood unappeased here, — blood on 

each hand." 



PART SIXTH. 

I. 

Come thou, breath of Spring, 

Gently thy breezes blow; 
Quick all thy influence bring, — 

Thy arching bow! 
Scatter thy dower of bliss, 
Opening each swelling bud with thy sweet vernal 
kiss. 
Day after day 
Still adding flower to flower, 
Hour after hour, 
For aye, 
Till, one by one, 
New fruits shall ripen 'neath the ascending sun. 

109 



110 IGDEASIL. 

"What if they fall ? 

Red-ripe they sure must be; 
Nor will we deem that all 
Should cling to thee, 
noble tree ! 
The fruit must have its harvest-festival, 
Its buds, its blossoming, 
Its gathering. 

n. 

To its branches we hold, 

And we shrink from the mould 

'Neath the brave Igdrasil; 
But the tendrils are frail, 
Storm-riven by the hail 

Which beats on them still. 



ni. 

Though severed and tossed, 
Though fallen, not lost; 



I G D R A S I L. Ill 

Rich, tile soil they have found, 
In the quiet church-ground, 
To which we are bound. 

IV. 

Mighty harvests are there, 
Garnered closely with care ; 
Angel reapers will come 
To gather them home. 



V. 

Be silent, heart! 
Let the lovely depart: 
AVith their kindred they sleep, 
How sweetly ! how deep ! 

VI. 

But the morn will awake, 

And the glad earth will shake 
10 



112 IGDRASIL. 

With a rapturous song, 

"Which the heavens will prolong. 

VII. 

s 

" Death, where's thy sting ?" 
The ransomed will sing ; 
"0 Death, yield thy trust," 
Will be heard by the dust; 
For the Victor is nigh, 
Who will gather his jewels to set in the sky. 

VIII. 

But come not, Death, when the bud and the 

flower 
In the warm breath of Spring are displaying 

their power, 
And the dew and the sunshine are beaming so 

bright, 
And the heart is so trusting, so joyous and 

light. 



IGDRASIL. 113 

Let the summer-time ripen the promise of 

spring, 
And the birds all their carols of music shall 

sing; 
Let the flowers in rich coronals round us now 

wreathe, 
And their fragrance upon us in affluence breathe. 

And if Autumn shall come with its russet of 

brown, 
Weaving over the fruit its rich velvet of down, 
And the clusters are hanging so temptingly 

sweet, 
Stir not the dry leaves with thy unbidden feet ! 

But if Winter shall blow with its winds cold and 

drear, 
And the ripe corn is ready, its leaves dry and 

sear, 
Then come thou, Death ! and we'll yield thee 

thy own, 
And silence each murmur and stifle each groan. 



114 IGDRASIL. 

But, with delicate skill and with daintiest care, 
Death conies to the beautiful, lovely, and fair; 
And, scorning the aged, the worthless, the 

vain, 
Most partial, he chooses the goldenest grain. 

He waits not the hour when the full bloom shall 

pour, 
Breathing out on the air all its fulness and 

store, 
But with stealth eats the life from the soft 

bursting shoot, 
And destroys all the promise, — the earnest of 

fruit. 

The eye that he quenches, he kindles with fires. 

And the tints he despoils, with new beauty in- 
spires ; 

And the mind that he prostrates, he seeks to 
refine, 

And the heart that he crushes, he first makes 
divine. 



IGDRASIL. 115 

But think not, Death, that thy sceptre shall 

claim 
The reward that thou seekest of honor and 

fame : 
The bud yet will blossom, its earnest is sure, 
And the fruit gathered early in heaven shall 

mature. 



IX. 

"Wave on, noble tree, 
In the clear light shining ; 

Fond memories for me 
Thy rich buds are entwining. 

The clambering vines, and their rich, fragrant 
flowers, 

With the primrose and hyacinths hid in thy 
bowers, 

Recall to my heart many seasons of glad- 
ness, 

Seasons of hope, and seasons of sadness. 

10* 



116 IGDRASIL. 

Bright eyes look out, now haunting me ever, 

Faces once bright, pale now forever, 

Smiles shining sweetly as the light on you 

beaming, 
Dark raven locks in the fresh breezes streaming. 

Forms gay and graceful as crests of the billow, 

On which the lone sea-bird has fashioned his 
pillow ; 

Glad ringing voices as the lark upward spring- 
ing 

"When the heavens are cheered with the notes 
it is singing. 

I look now and wonder, in dreams fond and 

fleeting, 
As the scenes of the past from my eyes are 

retreating, 
Till I wake, and the visions are lost to my 

sight 
And the fantasies fade in the glare of the 

light. 



IGDKASIL. 117 

The vision still lingers, and I see now to-day 
The loved and the beautiful, long passed away ; 
They come, as if summoned away from yon clime, 
To meet and to greet me at eve's trysting-time. 

As the shades gather round me, they silently 

come 
And beckon me on to their own blessed home ; 
And among them a matron-form anxious I see, 
With a babe now asleep on her low bended 

knee. 

And I know, by that voice which now floats on 

the air, 
And those locks thin and scattered, so white 

and so fair, 
That a fond mother's eye is fixed on me still, 
As of old in the shade of the bright Igdrasil. 

Groups of boys and of maidens, full of gladness 

are seen, 
Still trooping along on the old village green ; 



118 IGDRASIL. 

And the shout and the dance, and the laugh and 

the song, 
With the wild wassail mirth, bear my spirits 

along, — 

Seen dimly, for now are my eyes blind with 

tears, 
As I watch the slow tread which in fancy 

appears, 
When pale forms, one by one, fade away into 

night, 
Till the turf covers all from my grief-burdened 

sight, — 

The maiden that blushed at the sound of her 

name, 
The boy that was frenzied and maddened by 

fame, 
The poor that were crushed by the proud and 

the gay, 
And the rich that had passed as the flowers 

away. 



IGDRASIL. 119 

The wrecked and the ruined, the wretched, the 

lost, 
By lust and by envy, by jealousy tossed, 
By love and by hatred alike borne away, 
To mingle their dust in the mouldering clay. 



PART SEVENTH. 

I. 

The eye of love, far-seeing, 
Sees into things deep hid, 

Catches the odors fleeing, 
The light within the lid. 

Lips trembling with emotion, 
Or turned away in fear, 

Reveal the pent-np ocean, 
The storm within the mere. 

The signs which others see not, 
Love sees, and he can tell: 

The blushes fade, but flee not, 
Which he interprets well. 



121 



122 IGDKASIL. 

The filtering words that tremble 
Upon the tell-tale tongue, 

Though art and skill dissemble, 
Are like a song that's sung 

When all alone and musing, 

And he is at the door, 
And his name is interfusing 

With the notes that from her pour; 

Till by a rap awaking, 

As gentle as a sprite, 
Her nerves at once are shaking 

With a most delicious fright. 

She knows the sound, the measure, 

The distance, of his feet ; 
But love hath its own pleasure, 

The scorner of deceit. 

So he comes and touches lightly 
Her soft and trembling hand, 



IGDRASIL. 123 

And his brow to her how sightly, 
His mien how noble, grand ! 

He speaks to her about her pets, 

The canaries in the cage, 
The sparkling of the silvery jets, — 

Some jest or persiflage. 

A blush spreads o'er her modest face, 

A tear is in her eye ; 
She hides it with a gentle grace, 

And breathes a half-born sigh. 



n. 

" Mary, the day is very fine : 
The spring has surely come : 
The leaves are on the eglantine ; 
I hear the wild bees hum." 

"Last night I sat upon the sill, 

Just near the oriel," 
n 



124 IGDRASIL. 

Said she : "the air was calm and still; 
It held me like a spell. 

"The swallow clove the yielding air, 
The lilac showed its bloom : 
This rose, then steeped in dew, how fair! 
Its breath was all perfume." 

If yon had heard her voice of love 

And seen her artless look, 
Your soul would with the music move, 

As moves the running brook. 

But I was silent, and my tongue 

Refused to answer then, 
As if an angel-voice had sung 

Within a hidden glen ; 

When suddenly I chanced to spy, 

Close in a secret nook, 
A little distance from her eye, 

An old, familiar book. 



IGDRASIL. 125 

And as I raised it with my hand, 

I think, without her leave, 
I read, she gazing on the stand, 

"My own, my Genevieve!" 

A dainty pencil-mark it bore : 

She heard me praise it well 
When last I stood within the door 

Of the old domicil. 

And strange it seemed to me that now 

It opened at this place; 
And, looking on her shining brow, 

I saw her blushing face, 

And thought I saw her turn away 

And look towards the sky, — 
The way her thoughts had gone astray 

Upon an anxious sigh. 



126 IGDRASIL. 



in. 

"Mary, 'tis now one year, I think, 
Since first upon the green, 
Just as the day began to sink, 
We met: none else were seen. 

"A violet in your hand, still wet, 
A rose-hud in your breast, 
A smile upon your eye of jet: — 
I need not tell the rest. 

"We walked along the lonely way 
That winds the distant beach, 
And heard the rippling waters play, 
And gentle words from each. 

" Since then we've met, and hour by hour, 
The last the sweetest, best, 
As evening shows her mightiest power 
With Hesper on her breast." 



IGDKASIL. 127 



IV. 

She silent sat, and mused the while 

Upon the words I said : 
A tear was playing with a smile, 

As she meekly bowed her head. ' 

"Had I," said he, "the power to tell 
What now is in my heart ! 
But your presence holds me with a spell, 
That bids all words depart. 

" Had I the power to win and hold 
A love so deep, so high, 
The gift would make me strong and bold 
As an eagle in the sky. 



V. 



"Love reasons not; it only feels 

Its language is a look: 
11* 



128 I G D R A S I L. 

The sigh, that breathes, the tear that steals,- 
These are its written book. 

"And blurred all o'er is mine, I know, 
With these mysterious lines ; 
But hieroglyphs no meaning show 
Till knowledge on them shines. 

"And love's the deepest, widest lore 
That dwells within the soul: 
It stands outside the open door, 
And comprehends the whole. 

" The heavens are all her own when she 
But casts her eye above ; 
For her dwelling is infinity, 
The home of perfect love. 



VI. 

" Oh, strange it seems to me that I 
Had never seen before 



IGDRASIL. 129 

The wealth of love that's in the eye, 
The beams which from it pour. 

"No other voice but thine can shed 
Such rapture on my heart; 
No other captive e'er was led 
To such a queenly mart. 

"And yet the price at which I sell 
My pure and peerless love 
Is that you bring a gift as well 
As that which mine shall prove. 

"Let us be even, — I to share 
The treasures that you bring ; 
With these no other can compare : 
Take my poor offering ! 

"Love makes me bold: it hath no shame: 
I give you all that's mine ; 
And what I ask is but to claim 
The portion that is thine. 



130 IGDRASIL. 

"If Heaven but grant me this request, 
This dower of bliss, my own, 
I'll wear the jewel on my breast, 
A queen upon a throne." 

vn. 

O love, thou art a sacred thing ! 

It dwells within the pure : 
On all that's good it seems to fling 

A light that will endure. 

Its own it gives, and, giving, gets 
More than it seems to give; 

As when the sun in glory sets, 
The stars are all alive. 

Or when the clouds descend in rain 

Upon an April day, 
The arching bow the heavens stain 

With colors rich and gay. 



IGDRASIL. 131 

But let not passion dim its light, 

Or earth-born wishes blend 
Their shadows with a thing so bright, 

Its presence to offend. 

But, purified by prayer and truth, 

From sin and weakness free, 
Preserve the beauty of its youth 

With inward sanctity. 

She heard the feeble words I spoke, 

And answered with a sigh ; 
And, though no answering accents broke, 

I read her moistened eye. 

I need not speak the rest; for soon 

The solemn rite was done 
"Which made our life a day in June 

And changed two hearts to one. 



132 IGDRASIL. 



vm. 

" 'Tis twice seven years since we were wed, 
This evening, Mary dear: 
How rapidly the time has fled! 
The day seems very near 

" Since you and I, with plighted hands, 
And words of deep intent, 
Kissed the dear silken marriage-bands, 
As round our hearts they went. 

"We did not know each other then 
As since we've learned to know; 
Nor can we tell the moment when 
Our joys have ceased to flow. 

"And not a day has come and gone, 
But some new light has shed 
Its radiant beauty fresh upon 
Your trusting heart and head. 



IGDRASIL. 133 

" Not all of pleasure, much of pain, 
Have been our earthly lot; 
But time has left on you no stain, 
Eor memory a blot. 

"What deep heart-histories linger round 
Our own, our happy home ! 
The very spot seems hallowed ground, 
From which I ne'er would roam. 

" These four old walls within them keep 
How much to fan our love ! 
The rooms in which our children sleep, 
Through which their footsteps move. 

"How many memories crowd this hour, 
Of things long done and said, 
The magic of whose mighty power 
"We feel, though they have fled ! 

" A world of feeling and of thought, 
To soothe or to control, 



134 IGDEASIL. 

Which from the past this night has brought 
Afresh within my soul." 

IX. 

Old Juba lay across the hearth, 

His head at Mary's feet; 
The cat was full of innocent mirth ; 

The baby sleeping sweet. 

A sudden flare of mellow light 

The sea-coal shot afar, 
And all within the room was bright, 

Nor wanted sun or star. 

Minnie — for so they called their pet- 
Had fastened on the cap 

Of the little doll, with eyes of jet, 
That slumbered on her lap. 

And Henry deep within the lore 
Of Mrs. Barbauld read, 



IGDKASIL. 135 



And widely on the downy floor 
His well-built city spread. 

The clock upon the steeple near 
Had struck the hour of nine, 

And Mary wept a pearly tear: 
It was the twin of mine. 



X. 

"Just ten years since, this hour," she said, 
"And mother passed away:" 
The old canary raised its head 
And sung a roundelay! 

"Here is the spot she used to sit, 
And there the old arm-chair:" 
Old Juba looked askance to it, 
And, rising, sunk down there. 

"I thought she would not long remain 
When baby sunk to rest : 

12 



106 IGDRASIL. 

She felt a cold and shivering pain 
As I laid it on her breast." 

The cat leaped now upon the knee 

Of Elia, as she spoke, 
And in the cradle, silently, 

The little infant woke. 

And Mary pressed it to her breast, 
Then kissed it o'er and o'er, 

And felt an inward peace and rest 
She never felt before. 

XI. 

The Bible lay upon the stand: 
Its leaves were opened wide, 

And, holding it within his hand, 
Elia these words espied: — 

"Their angels always do behold 
My Father's face in heaven;" 



IGDRASIL. 137 

Mary "of such," said Christ, of old, 
Were to his Father given. 

Then, bowing meekly at his throne, 

They poured a fervent prayer, 
That, since their first-born child had gone, 

They each might find him there. 

Oh, sweet affliction ! — doubly sweet 

"When scattered joys shall lead 
The broken-hearted to the feet 

Of Christ in times of need ! 

And through this open door and dark 

He deigns to pass within, 
Finding the chambers cold and stark 

"With, many a cherished sin; 

And with an eye inured to grief, 

A heart akin to pain, 
He brings the weary soul relief, 

And makes it live again. 



138 IGDRASIL. 



XII. 

Our Lord by suffering learned to feel; 

By want, to furnish bread; 
His griefs had taught him how to heal 

The heart with anguish spread. 

His home a stranger's here on earth, 
His bed the mountain cold; 

A wanderer from his very birth, 
Like a lamb without a fold. 

O'erlooking all that pride, or state, 
Or chance to us had given; 

To him a man is good or great 
Whose hopes are fixed on heaven. 

The poor are rich, the rich are poor, 

!N"ot as we think or see; 
But only as they shall endure 

All for eternity ! 



IGDRASIL. 139 

And therefore sorrow hath a voice 

In him that answers well, 
And inwardly doth he rejoice 

To break its magic spell. 

Oh, blessings on his humble head, 

Forever good and true, — 
The Saviour, who for us has bled, 

And rose for me and you! 

And blessings on the hand that brings 

To sorrow's lowly door 
Such costly gifts and offerings 

To enrich the suffering poor ! 

And praises for the words he spoke, 

His pity and his love, 

And for the bread of life he broke, 

And for our home above. 
. 12* 



140 IGDRASIL. 



XIII. 

Tears fall upon Ms thirsty heart, 
As rain on meadows shorn; 

And griefs and sighs that from us start 
To him at once are borne. 

In darkest hours, in storm and hail, 

He comes, as if in need; 
And we listen to his piteous tale 

Until our spirits bleed. 

He knocks for entrance, cold and chill, 

A beggar at the door, 
But coming with his hands to fill 

The coffers of the poor. 

XIV. 

"Abide with us: the day is spent: 
Share of our poor repast:" 



IGDRASIL. 141 

And as he leaves the lowly tent, 
A gift behind he'll cast. 

"They know him not:" closed are their eyes: 
A guest with weary feet; 
But, ere they from the table rise 
At which he sits for meat, 

They look with wonder, and admire 

The words in blessing said, 
And their hearts are suddenly on fire, 

While "he is breaking bread." 

They know him by his voice of love, 

His look of heavenly grace ; 
And, while their hearts his words approve, 

He secret leaves the place. 

XV. 

Stranger, now turn aside thy way, 
And look upon the past; 



142 IGDKASIL. 

For life is but a restless day, 
With shadows on it cast. 

We guide our pen with trembling hand, 

To lift the partial veil 
That hides the bark that nears the strand, 

Borne by the sweeping gale. 

By love and sorrow rendered dear, 

Too sacred to reveal ! 
The records of a smile or tear, 

Which every heart must feel. 

And the deepest roots of feeling thread 
Through sorrow's plastic mould, 

As the oaks their widest branches spread 
Within the moistened wold. 

And only on the turbid stream, 

To its own heaven true, 
Will the rich lotus send the beam 

Of its many-colored hue. 



IGDKASIL. 143 



XVI. 

"Bettie, the storm is raging loud; 
The snow-drift fills the air; 
The earth is covered with its shroud, 
And cheerless everywhere. 

" Alas ! how many poor there be 
Who want for daily bread, 
And wearily and heavily 
They press a cheerless bed ! 

"While sheltered from the angry storms, 
Close to our cheerful fire, 
How many pale and haggard forms 
In cold neglect expire ! 

"Take now your cloak, and wrap it well; 
Haste to old Maggie's door: 
A night like this, our hearts should swell 
With pity for the poor. 



144 IGDRASIL. 

" Since Elia died, I've learned to feel 
The wants that others know; 
And tears from out my heart will steal 
At sight of human woe. 

"We were so happy, so content, 
Blest with each others' love ; 
But now I know why grief is sent, 
And sorrow from above. 

"It is to make us one with those 
Who share our common lot, 
And feel the burden and the woes 
Of those who are forgot. 

" His voice is pleading with me now : 
His heart, it speaks to mine ; 
And radiant from his saintly brow 
The beams of mercy shine. 

" Then hasten through the secret lane : 
!N"o danger need you fear; 



IGDRASIL. 145 

And soon the lonely cot you'll gain, 
And at its door appear." 

Love makes us bold: it guards us well: 

It fears no boding ill; 
It throws around a charmed spell, 

That holds us at its will. 

No evil spirits can assail 

The heart which it enshrines ; 
Nor can our wishes ever fail 

When love upon them shines. 

"I saw poor Maggie leave the town 
And homeward speed at even, 
And shivering in her tattered gown, 
By age and service riven. 

" A penny loaf I chanced to spy : 
A tear stole down her cheek ; 
And, as I caught her anxious eye, 
She wished, but could not speak. 



146 IGDRASIL. 

"And as around my board to-night, 
Our sweet repast to share, 
Her cheerless home was in my sight, — 
Her scanty food and fare. 

"And as the howling tempest rose, 
!No pleasure could I feel 
Until I sought to share the woes 
I am too weak to heal." 

Adown the low and rugged steep, 
Through drifting snow and hail, 

She sought the lonely, humble keep 
Within the lowly vale. 

The room was dark, the walls were bare, 
The windows racked and rent; 

And in her manse, with grief and care, 
Maggie in sorrow bent. 

Quite old and gray, her wandering eye 
Was sunken deep and low; 



IGDRASIL. 147 

Her guest was naked penury, 
Her inmates, pain and woe. 

Her arm was leaning on her knee, 

Her shivering limbs acold; 
A wreck she seemed upon the lea, 

A lamb without a fold. 

"How are you, Maggie?" "Very ill. 
And yet I think that He 
Who bade the stormy wind 'be still,' 
Upon the Galilee 

" Had more of sorrow, more of pain, 
Than I can ever bear: 
He bore our griefs, and would again 
Our heaviest burdens share. 

"He hears the ravens when they cry: 
The sparrow in her nest; 
And underneath his watchful eye 
He gives the weary rest. 

13 



148 IGDRASIL 

" 'Tis well with, me : 'tis naught can harm 
The objects of his care; 
Within no terror, no alarm: 
He lives to answer prayer." 

" The night is long." "Not very long: 
I think of Him all night, 
Until I hear the cock's shrill song, 
That brings the morning light." 

" 'Tis very lonely here." "Not so: 
How can it be, when he 
Deigns with the poor to dwell below 
And keep them company?" 

"Are you not weary of your life?" 
"I am waiting for the day 
That ends with me this mortal strife : 
I'll go when be shall say." 

Bettie returned : she left behind 
The gifts her hands had brought, 



IGDRASIL. 149 

And felt an inward peace of mind, 
Which came to her unsought. 

The winds beat high; the wintry blast 

Impetuous swept the sky; 
And, as the howling tempest past, 

Mary returned a sigh. 

Her heart was with her boy, away 

Far on the raging sea; 
And as each fitful gust would stray, 

It brought fresh agony. 

Henry a happy hearth had left, 

In foreign lands to roam; 
Shorn of her flock, by all bereft, 

She wept, — a broken home. 

For full five years no tidings came, — 

A wanderer from his nest; 
But still with hope she fanned the flame 

That burned within her breast. 



150 IGDRASIL. 

She waited anxious his return : 
She watched from day to day, 

Until upon the smouldering urn 
The last spark died away. 

And thus, with many a sigh and groan 

She could not well explain, 
Her spirit turned to Him alone 

Who understood her pain. 

He knows the language of a tear, 

The meaning of a sigh, 
The secret of a hidden fear, — 

Love's deepest mystery. 

The weary weight of crushing woes 

Our words cannot express, 
Finds One who well their meaning knows, 

To others meaningless. 

A sudden rap is at the door: 
" It is the wind, I know : 



IGDRASIL. 151 

Fiercely without the surges roar: 
The winds, how rough they blow!" 

A heavier knock again is heard ; 

Her heart with terror quakes ; 
And mid the storm she hears a word 

That every fibre shakes. 

"It is his voice!" with hope elate 
She ran to clasp her boy, 
Returned and waiting now to sate 
A mother's heart with joy. 

He makes amends for all her pain, 

For darkness gives her light, 
Bringing a harvest now again 

"Where all before was blight. 

Oh, strange the web which here below 

Around our hearts is spread: 
The coarsest texture still will glow 

"With many a golden thread ! 



152 IGDRASIL. 

And sweet reliefs will come at last, 
When least we think them nigh; 

As when storm-racked, the tempest past 
Reveals a radiant sky. 

EPODE. 

FUNEREAL FLOWERS. 

I love so well 
In the shade to dwell, 
And talk to the flowers 
In their sunny bowers. 

I find them here, 

I find them there ; 

And everywhere 

To me they are dear; — 

Dear to my eye 
Wherever they lie, — 
By the side of the pool, 
So fresh and cool; 



IGD1USIL. 153 

In the garden-plot 
By the little cot; 
In the secret dingle 
Or pebbly shingle; 

Under the tree, 
Or by the sea; 
Through the waving corn, 
Or the meadows, shorn. 

And 'tis all the same, 
Whatever their name. 
On the clambering vine, 
Where like gems they shine, 
In the velvety grass, 
Through which may pass 
The warm south wind, 
Leaving behind 
Odorous sweets 
From distant retreats; 
Or in fields of clover, 
Where the rich-laden rover, — 



154 IGDRASIL. 

The honey-bee, 

So busy and free, 

Gathers his own 

From the flowers unmown. 

But I cannot say 
That I like to see, 
"What I saw to-day 
In the hands of sleeping infancy; 
Fresh flowers 
From the bowers, 
Laid on his breast, — 
In his hands at rest! 
Laid near his cheek, 
So pale and meek! 
Laid at his feet, 
"Which were once so fleet! 
. That these should lie 
So near the eye, 
Forever hid 
From the sight of that lid ! 



IGDRASIL. 155 

So near the lip 

That cannot sip 

Their nectared sweet; 

Is it meet, is it meet ? 

I cannot choose to see them now, 

As I gaze on that brow, — 

On that golden hair, 

On those cheeks so fair ! 

On his hands in prayer, 

Folded with care ! 



PART EIGHTH. 



I. 



God, who now holds within his hand 
Famine and plagne and fire, 

To drive the wicked from the land 
Or blast them with his ire, — 

Dread agents, waiting on his will, 

Quick to obey his word, 
Ready his summons to fulfil 

What time they may be heard, — 

Still holds them back, — in love restrains, 
Though hungry for their prey; 

And mercy over justice reigns 
Throughout the livelong day. 

157 



158 IGDRASIL. 



II. 

This one by passion in his youth, 

Unthinking, rashly falls ; 
Old age, experience, and its truth 

May save him from its thralls. 

And this, a rebel in his health, 

In all his thoughts impure : 
Perhaps a worm, by hidden stealth, 

His folly hence will cure. 

Old age is callous, hard to reach; 

Resistance is its law; 
An ice-bound, rude, and blasted beach, 

~No sun or rain may thaw. 

"I'll send," says God, "the winds to blast 
The snow-drifts chill and bleak; 

And in some storm-riven cliff I'll cast 
A word that love shall speak. 



IGDRASIL. 159 

"And round its spiry peaks I'll weave 
A wreath of Alpine rose, 
"Whose purple belt of threads shall cleave 
To everlasting snows. 

"And flowering shrubs, and myrtle lace, 
In shaded fissures driven, 
Will lend a beauty and a grace 
To the azure vaults of heaven." 



III. 

Selfish we are, and hard : alas ! we feel 
Our petty griefs, and shame and scorn 

A brother's, — make our hearts like steel, 
Hough-handling those with anguish torn. 

"Mine is no grief," says one, "that shares 
Its burden with a generous heart, 
Dissolving half its stony cares 
In tears that from another start. 



14 



1G0 IGDRASIL. 

"Nor do I deem the world can yield 
So much of pity as I need: 
"Where shall I find another field 
Yielding so rich and ripe a seed? 

"As love spontaneous threw along 

The path on which my life has past, 
Each day was like a jubilant song : 
It seemed too precious long to last." 

Let us not tramp, as swinish churls, 

What to our sense seems vile and rude ; 

Lest we by folly lose the pearls 
In searching for ignoble food. 

IV. 

Thorns of ungenerous thoughts will choke the 
seed 

That fall upon the rich retentive soil, 
Which, to our shame, a harvest vile may breed, 

To show our thriftlessness and mock our toil. 



IGDRASIL. 161 

As the dim shadows of life's closing day 
Gather around us from the darkened sky, 

The flakes of crimson-cloud may send a ray, 
Calling us upward to the realms on high. 

Earth fades, suns darken, and the night has 
come, 
And sleep to weary ones its opiate sends, 
Till, like the child at shadowy eve, towards 
home 
Along his chosen pathway eager tends. 

And as no vistas please, how bright the scene, 
Or varied landscapes tempt the artist's eye, 

Of purple cliffs, or summer's freshened green, 
That look not out upon infinity; — 

But only those that amplify and reach, 

Like wandering sunbeams through the tangled 
woods, 

Or waters tossing on the lonely beach, 
Telling of weary seas or mighty floods. 



162 IGDRASIL. 

So the fond heart, aweary, turns to seek 
Solace and joy from faith's illumined eye, 

Catching each glint that sparkles on the peak 
Of mountain-turrets pointing to the sky. 

We are not what we should he : life is spent 
In vain endeavors, and in wishes vain; 

We feel that 'tis a treasure to us lent, 
To he kept safely, then restored again. 

We sigh for what we know not; and we send 
Our thoughts full freighted to a world 

We have not seen ; our spirits tend 

Upwards and slow, hy counter currents hurled. 

In love with all that's beautiful, we seek 
For that which is not here ; we weep 

In fruitless search, and fain would speak 
With those who the rich treasure keep. 

Our very life is hut a dawn; its rose 
Deep crimsoned, speaks to us of day; 



IGDRASIL. 163 

And when the shadowy tints around ns close, 
The stars their teeming glory do display. 

There is nor hope nor joy to man, unless 
We look to Him who for us bore 

The Cross, heavy as guilt, and lives to bless 
Beyond our thoughts, above earth's stormy 
shore. 

Our nature he hath carried- to the Throne; 

Shrined are the souls he bought, in him; 
Through his great triumphs we have found and 
won 

Mansions above the burning seraphim. 



14* 



THE COtfCLUSIOK 

LIFE AND IMMORTALITY. 
I. 

How the heavens above, 
In pity and love, 

On this tree shed their beams! 
Every leaf, every flower, 
Feels their glory and power, 

And with fresh beauty teems. 

And the stars rhythmic march 

O'er the blue pave'd arch, 
Displaying their armor so bright, 
As onward they go, 
Moving silent and slow, 
Raining on us their nebular light. 



165 



166 IGDRASIL. 



II. 

In the quiet of midnight, at eve, and at morn, 
Step by step, their bright banners above us are 

borne ; 
Flaming Mars, red as blood, the stern angel of 

war, 
And Jupiter, throned in his bright regal car, 

And Orion and Yenus, now burst on our sight, 
Like jewels that hang on the brow of the 

night ; 
And Saturn, whose rings, in their far-reaching 

bound, 
Seems the type of eternity, mitred and crowned. 

And the influence breathing and wafted from 

thence, 
Regales the faint spirit and bathes every sense ; 
Of all sorrow and sadness the heart it beguiles, 
Like the odor that's borne from Hesperian isles. 



I G D R A S I L. 167 

Proud boasters ! look forth on those clear-written 

lines : 
Each star is a word, as it brilliantly shines : 
The heavens a volume, how deep and profound ! 
And they speak to our hearts in their limitless 

bound. 



in. 

"We may watch the seed 

Till from darkness freed, 

And the plant has arisen 

From out its prison ; 

And through every stage, 

From youth to age, 
The germ which unfolds itself to man 
Our reason may compass, our senses scan. 

But what eye can explore 
That limitless shore, 
What foot has e'er trod 
That unbidden sod, 



168 IGDRASIL. 

That divides between matter unconscious and 
rude 

And those germs in which life bears her num- 
berless brood? 

'Tis a sea uncrossed, 

In which reason is lost, 

In its gulfs and sounds, 

"Without measure or bounds : 
Within, no venturous ship can stir, — 
Mid its floes no Arctic mariner. 

'Neath its wildering star, 
Dimly seen afar, 
In the uttermost pole, 
Is its ice-bound mole, 
And the wrecks of many a keel and spar. 
Beyond its walls, 
And its dangerous thralls, 
No headland lea, 

No OPEN SEA ! 



IGDRASIL. 169 

No city of refuge, to which, we may flee 
In life's deepest, darkest extremity, 
Save in Him who has crossed 

The invisible line, 
And was not lost 

In the frozen brine, 
But has shown us the way 

To a world unseen, 
Where the bright waters play, 
And the fields are green, 
And has added the wealth of a thousand 

spheres, 
And a world unmeasured by circling years. 

IV. 

O life, what a mystery thou art ! 
What floods in that mighty heart, 
Pulsing ever above and around, 
In the earth, and the air, and the seas pro- 
found ! 



170 IGDRASIL. 

Its awful beat, 
Its unmeasured feet, 
Its sounds sublime 
Is a musical chime. 
Its harmony 
Over earth and sky, 
The cycles vast of Eternity. 



THE END. 



; ?:■: Jim I860. 

M —J 



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